Build a Bridge
by AChurningTwister
Summary: Three sketches on the theme of water.
1. I

**I.**

Drinks and conversation flowed with equal ease at the Peach and Kidneys, the only exceptions occurring whenever the subject turned to religion, especially when everyone had had at least two rounds of drinks too many.

"Well, _I've_ been baptised," Nessarose shrilled, "and it's absolutely insulting that you could demean such a holy act of the Unnamed God…oh, Elphaba, help…"

She stopped short, voice breaking with helpless rage as her sister laid a placating hand on her shoulder. Elphaba glared across the table at Avaric, whose eloquent response consisted merely of a smirk and a rude hand gesture before turning back to Crope.

"What about you, Elphie?" Glinda whispered, scooting closer and nearly falling into her lap. She put a hand onto Elphaba's thigh to steady herself, giggling when the other girl flinched. "You ever been baptised?"

"You've had too much to drink, haven't you?"

"You're evading the question," Glinda retorted, picking up Crope's glass by mistake and draining it in a gulp. "And there's no need to be high and mighty just because you hold your alcohol better than the rest of us."

"It's a gift," Elphaba said, smoothly switching the glasses before Crope noticed and then topping up her own (after all, Avaric was paying). "Besides, I wouldn't want to miss the opportunity to watch one of the mighty Arduenna clan lose her aristocratic crust," she teased, earning Glinda's best attempt at a scowl. "And if it'll make you stop asking, the answer is no."

"Why Nessa and not you?" Glinda probed insistently; even beneath the haze of the wine, she sensed something yet to be learned about her roomie.

"Nest Hardings nearly flooded when I was born, that's as good a baptism as any as far as I'm concerned," Elphaba replied, avoiding Glinda's slightly tipsy gaze. "And I think it's ridiculous that someone pouring water over your head is practically a binding contract to lifelong fear of the Unnamed God. I relish an allowance for sin and misdemeanour myself, even if I don't carry it as far as Avaric does. Enough to scandalise my saintly sister, at any rate; I'm positively wicked next to Nessarose."

"You're not wicked. You're _good_." When Elphaba raised a skeptical eyebrow, Glinda let out a hiccup and rested her head on her roommate's bony shoulder, shutting her eyes. "After all this time, I've decided I'd take you over silly Pfannee or Shenshen any day."

Elphaba stiffened at the unexpected grip of Glinda's fingers onto her own and opened her mouth to reply; but their attention was diverted by raucous shouts of laughter as Tibbett, affecting a saintly pose, doused poor Fiyero with another tumbler of dewberry ale.


	2. II

**II.**

"I remember that," Fiyero chuckled, "I had an ice headache for a week, and just before exams too. It's a wonder I didn't fail."

Elphaba grinned - mechanically, it seemed to him - a flash of teeth in the dim moonlight. She was propped up on one elbow and staring up at the frost-laced skylight, apparently deep in thought as one finger circled lazily across his chest.

"I didn't even have a clue what was going on," he continued, attempting to re-engage her. "We don't have many birth rites in the Vinkus, only funerary ones. Makes sense, really, considering our reputation for infant mortality."

"So you were a lucky one?" she said, rolling aside and drawing the dusky-smelling blanket further over her shoulders. "We could stand to learn a few things from the Arjikis. After all, the way one leaves this world is far more significant than the haphazard way one bursts into it."

"I've told you, Fae, I _adore_ your looks…"

"It's not about that," she snapped defensively.

"I just wanted to remind you, then," he wheedled, sensing another argument was brewing. "You're far too abstruse for me, Fae-Fae. Going to Shiz was like being thrown in the deep end, a country boy amongst all you sophisticates like a fish out of water. But I don't think I understand you much better even now, what with all your mysterious comings and goings."

"You have an exceptional command of watery metaphors for someone who grew up near a desert. Careful, or I might get ideas about diving into the next river I come across, and then where would you be?"

Fiyero smiled too, but uneasily; he thought he recognised the strain in her voice that prefaced each request for a week of privacy. Taut silence reigned, broken only by the sound of Malky prowling amidst the burnt-out stems of the Lurlinemas candles.

"Don't leave me, Fae," he blurted out in sudden panic, groping for her hand only for it to be wrenched away.

"I won't," came the cross answer.

"Fae, I mean it, be careful…"

Abruptly she manoeuvred herself astride him, wordlessly imploring him to drop the subject, at least for now. He acquiesced, half-questioning this decision even as he tugged impulsively at her waist, and when she gasped his name in between desperate kisses, he forgot once more how to breathe. He was lost all over again, drowning but hoping to never be saved.


	3. III

**III.**

Arjiki customs dictated an outdoor vigil, but Manek's body had had to be brought inside on account of unseasonable weather. She watched from the window as the abandoned canopy flagged under the deluge, only half-listening to Sarima's voice as it broke for the third time over the funereal recitation.

The dining hall had been cleared and benches set out, although only three of them were occupied - Sarima had been adamant on a private ceremony. As a show of solidarity, her five sisters were all seated (with no small difficulty) on one creaking bench. Liir sat solemnly upon another, gazing fixedly at the bier with unreadable expression. He was flanked by Irji (wearing his customary blank look) and Nor, who looked stifled in a dusty black dress, picking at the hem of her skirt. Nanny had sent her condolences but declined to attend, citing her weak stomach and how she had "never been very good with blood".

The rain began to pour harder, if such a thing were possible, making Auntie Guest shiver at the thought of all that wet. Under her eye, the canopy finally deigned to collapse, crumpling gracefully in on itself like a goose enveloping itself protectively over a nest.

The sisters rose as Sarima ended the lengthy recital, flocking to her side with murmurs of condolence. Elphaba considered words of sympathy, the least awkward place to lay a consoling hand; but she thought also of Fiyero, of the cruelty of the promise she intended to break, and did not stir.

Her sororal duty done, Two began filing down the aisle and back to the parlour, the others following suit. It did not escape Auntie Guest that Six, in passing, cast a dark glance her way and muttered a single word just loudly enough to carry:

"_Witch."_


End file.
